


The Messenger

by Tak



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 07:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tak/pseuds/Tak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A super short story set in a futuristic Wellington.<br/>Done as a piece of home work for my writing course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Messenger

The old bank still stands a testimony to kiwi stubbornness.  
Her cream walls risen out of the silt and sand , reconstituted into her former glory on the banks of the slums.  
I wander her marbled halls waiting for my cue. Given wide birth by my slow heavy ominous footsteps echoing before me.  
Raising my goggles a familiar face, red as a beet root, hurtles towards md. his small feet slap the ground in his rubber soled shoes.  
Smiling I ran my hands over the peach fuzz of my regrouping hair and kneel to welcome the child.  
He doesn't stop. His little body hitting me with the force of a tiny sugar propelled train. Immediately he tires to speak, leaving him no time to catch his breath.   
Stammering the words "mum" and "box." Through sharp gasps.  
"Shhhhh." I sooth him. "Ronan, breathe."  
I raised my hands to signal a breath in, then lower them for the breath out.  
"Mum wants a box taken to the ark Apartments."  
He pushed the vacuum sealed box into my hands. "Fast."  
"You're in luck, I'm the fastest there is." I give him a Reassuring wink before replacing my goggles and one last friendly pat on the back before his little feet begin their quick patter to race through the mall back to his parents shop.  
Calmly and with out haste I exit the haven of artificial light and burst into the fresh air and sunlight.  
Bending to check my laces I run my hands up my calves, to my thighs then to the sky.  
To the left a sharp drop. A watery shopping area, a myriad of see craft scattering the water ways like some new form of sea life. Flowing with the current, bobbing in and out with the tide, feeding off each other, crying at each other, buying and selling wares.  
All that's left after the quake stands to my right.  
The slums, smattered with industry, like weeds in a flower bed, sprouting up where ever there is room.  
My feet hit the pavement, heavy slow footsteps replaced by speed. I use the back streets, dodging trash cans and smoking kitchen hands; stray cats forage for food in piles of refuse as if their lives depend on it.  
Climbing upwards the road heads away from the smoke and neon and into a land of towering apartments,  
People packed in like sardines forced to share living space, personal boundaries shattered by necessity.  
The address; 15th floor.  
The building; in in front of me.  
I pause at the stair well, looking up into the spiralling torture hall of flickering lights.  
The lift?  
I hear a groan, see parks through the door after pushing the button.  
"My thighs may hate me for the climb, but at least I'll be alive for them to complain." I mutter beginning to ascend.  
Clearing the first five flights was easy, even the next set. As I climb, the working lights become more dispersed. The higher I climb the darker it gets like climbing into the belly off the beast.  
Fifteen, I have made it. I find my door, the same gun metal grey of every other door in the plane non-description apartment hall.  
Knock, knock, knock, my fist hits the door, the sound reverberating through it like a drum.  
I hear a lock click, a safety latch sliding scraping metal on metal.  
The door swings open revealing a familiar smiling face.  
My eyes narrow suspiciously knowing my dear friend is up to something.  
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY." Erupts a chorus from behind her.  
She laughed ushering me inside with a hug. "You didn't think I'd make you work today."


End file.
